"Papa! Papa! Wake up! Wake up please, papa! Wake up!"

Illya opened his eyes. His face was wet, his mouth dry, and he felt somehow exhausted, as though he had been running. His eyes were crusty and uncomfortable, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand until he managed to focus on the little figure standing beside his bed. Katiya, her long curly blond hair tumbling around her shoulders, and her blue pyjamas with one leg trailing along the floor, the other rolled up above her knee. She was sniffling and looked scared.

"Katiya! What are you doing out of bed?"

"Papa, you were screaming and crying. You waked me up and I was scared. I thought someone was hurting you."

The child started to cry, largely out of relief, Illya suspected, at the knowledge that he was alright. He sat up and pulled her into a hug until she started to calm down. Illya said nothing. His heart was racing, his mind still full of the images from his dream. He had to find some way to reassure Katiya that he was okay and that she did not need to worry. But then, Katiya had been through a few things herself, and she too occasionally suffered nightmares, although in her case they were becoming rapidly less frequent. Finally, when her sobs had receded to the occasional sniff, he crouched in front of her and took her by the hands.

"Are you all right now? Not scared anymore?"

Katiya nodded, another tear falling.

"Still scared Papa. You were screaming and you were crying. You're…you're a…" she broke off, fumbling for the phrase or word she wanted. Illya supplied it.

"A grown-up?"

She nodded and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. Illya grimaced and handed her a tissue. She took it and wiped her eyes with it.

"Why were you screaming papa? I thought you were not afraid of anything. Why were you crying?"

"It was a dream, that's all. Just a dream. You have bad dreams, sometimes don't you?"

She nodded.

"I dream about the men with the guns that chased us and how they killed deda."

"And you wake up crying sometimes, even though when you wake up it has all gone away?"

She nodded.

"You were dreaming about the men with guns too papa? But…"

Illya shook his head. He sat back against his pillows and pulled her on to his lap and wrapped the blanket over her cold legs.

"Katiya, grown-ups have bad dreams sometimes too. We can be as brave as anything when we are awake, but when we are asleep, we cannot control our dreams. You were telling me that at school, you learnt a little about the Nazis during the war, and how they invaded the Ukraine?"

Katiya nodded.

"You said that the…the…those bad men killed your papa and mama and your sisters. Were you dreaming about that?"

Illya shook his head.

"No, but about some things that happened to me after…after I lost them."

"What happened to you, papa?"

Illya shook his head firmly.

"No kitten, I can't tell you that, because then you would start to have nightmares about it as well. Just try and remember, Kitten, that those things that happened, that I was dreaming about, happened when I was a little boy, only slightly older than you are, now. I had forgotten about it for a long time. I put it out of my head until I had forgotten it. But something happened to me a few days ago, that has made me remember some things that I had long ago forgotten. Just like you have had to learn not to think about the men with guns that scared you before, I need to learn not to think about these new memories. But until that happens I'm afraid I am going to keep dreaming about it."

Katiya stared at him, her eyes big and wide.

"Papa, if it makes you scream and cry loudly, it must be really, really scary!"

"Lots of things are really scary, kitten. Bad dreams are always scary, and everyone gets them sometimes. Even grown-ups. But that is all they are. Dreams. When you wake up, they go away. The next time you think I might be having a bad dream, don't be scared. Just do what you did tonight, alright? Stand beside me and wake me up."

Katiya nodded and yawned. Illya got up and picked her up.

"Come on you, back to bed now."

He carried her back into his bedroom and tucked her up back into bed, and sat on the edge of the bed for a while, singing a Russian lullaby until she fell asleep. He crept back into the living room to his temporary bed…the bed-settee. Rather lumpy, with an inadequate mattress to cover the springs in his back, but together with the cushions from the sofa, it wasn't too bad, and it was better than sleeping on the floor at any rate. He was no longer sleepy, and he had no desire to be drawn back into that last dream.

The last week or more had been grueling to say the least. Contrary to his expectations however, doctor Fergus had been able to help him somewhat. Once she had helped him to push through that `dark space', to find the memories that THRUSH had tried hiding behind it, more memories that he had not realized he had lost had come gushing into his mind. Some of them uncomfortable in the extreme. Worst of all still though, was the one memory that he had successfully banished as a child, and that ever since his encounter with THRUSH and their brain machine, had been dominating his every waking moment. It was this memory that persistently crashed through his dreams every night, reducing him once again to a small child, but in the manner of dreams, the emotions he felt seemed stronger, even more vivid than they had been at the time.

He had lied to Katiya about this particular nightmare. Nightmares always did vanish once you awakened, to be sure, but not this one. This one seemed to persist even after he had woken up, the screams and the terror he had felt as a little boy still echoed, as did those hateful images. Sights that no child should ever see.

Doctor Alexandra Fergus, despite his progress during her sessions had still not approved him for duty. Was still insisting that their appointments continue. Half an hour every day. She knew he was holding out on her, Illya was certain of that. She had kept on and on asking him "Are you sleeping, Illya?" as if the dark shadows and the constant yawning weren't telling their own tale. He had finally admitted that, no, his sleeping was disturbed and erratic these days, but so far had refused to elaborate any further.

His memory of their initial session, where he had finally broken through THRUSH's induced mental barrier was painful still, and he was still working through the aftermath of that. His recollection of breaking down into floods of tears in her office, with her stroking his back still made him feel uncomfortable. Crying had been cathartic, but it troubled Illya. It had never been his way to reveal or release his emotions. His life back home had been of necessity, one of strict control. Control of one's actions, emotions and thoughts. Failure to exercise such control would have potentially devastating consequences. He had learnt whilst still very young, how to control his thoughts so that traumas were forgotten as soon as they were behind him. It was the only way he had known how to survive. It may have been unhealthy, but at the time it had been, for him, necessary.

These days he had learned to handle things differently, now that he had the circumstances to allow it, but now that THRUSH had unwittingly…or perhaps even deliberately, provided the key to unlocking his past traumas, they were leaking out in a seeming never-ending stream. Fergus wanted him to let them re-emerge, and integrate them and deal with them in the open with her help. The fact was though, Illya was afraid.

The memories that were still gushing into his mind contained the very vivid emotions and terrors of a very young boy, just eight and nine years old many of them, and they reduced Illya in age back to that time, when he was young, and skinny, and starving, and weak, and defenseless…and terrified.

Perhaps he had been wrong to have Katiya to stay with him over the weekend? Being in Katiya's company helped him to focus his mind away from himself. She was good company, highly intelligent, but very demanding at times. Her past had made her very possessive of him, and Illya knew that when he was around, she wanted his exclusive attention, and did not want to have to share him with anyone else. When he visited her at the Solo home where she lived most of the time, he made sure that young Polly Solo was included as often as possible in their activities.

Polly May Solo, ten years old, had taken this little Ukrainian child into her heart, and willingly shared her bedroom with her, all her toys, some of her clothes, and her parents. Katiya had accepted her generosity with gratitude, but without really any understanding of how much it would have cost Polly to do all of that. She shared nothing with Polly in return, largely because she had nothing to share except her papa. But she became sulky and petulant when she found her papa willing to allow Polly to join them on outings.

It was that, for the most part, that had influenced Illya to spend his time with his daughter, largely at the Solo home, so that Katiya could learn that although she was very important to him, she was not the absolute centre of anybody's universe. Nevertheless, the two did need quality time alone, and so once a month if possible, Illya would request a full weekend off work, and bring Katiya to New York City to stay with him in his little apartment.

Perhaps on reflection, this might not have been the best time to play the part of doting father. Katiya was aware that he was not quite his usual self, and had been watching him like a hawk.

Despite this being his weekend off, Fergus was still not letting him off the hook. She was insisting on his half-hour appointment with her today and tomorrow, and so under the circumstances, Lisa Rogers had agreed to take Katiya for an ice-cream whilst her papa was with the doctor.

Illya spent the remainder of the night, lying on his lumpy bed, staring up at the darkness, tired but sleepless. Unwilling to allow the nightmares to assail him yet again. Why could he never dream of nice things like fluffy clouds and bunny rabbits? By morning, the dark shadows under his eyes had deepened further still and he knew that Fergus would not allow him to put her off for much longer. He knew too that he would not be able to continue like this. How effectively would he be able to back up his partner if he was allowed into the field right now?

He had to get some sleep soon. He just had to.

MFU MFU MFU

Doctor Alexandra Fergus stood in medical, looking down at the sleeping Russian, her heart heavy. As a woman with her job she had necessarily broad shoulders, but even so they felt weighed down today. It had been a struggle this time to keep herself objective in the face of today's meeting with Mister Kuryakin.

She had heard many times members of staff here at HQ complain about the Russian agent's icy demeanor. How he seemed to have no emotions, how he seemed able to stand and watch calamities happen all around him without betraying a single twitch of emotion.

"He must be no more than a machine, an automaton!"

"He can't possibly be human!"

"That man has no feelings at all!"

The session today was scheduled to be half an hour in length, but that of course, was subject to requirements. It had been more than three and a half hours before she had felt it was time to end the session. She was staggered at the progress he had made today, but at the same time almost overwhelmed herself at some of his revelations. He had been by turns funny, defensive and angry before finally his walls had crumbled, and she had learned, finally, some of the things, the truly horrific events that had made the Russian the man he was. As the dam finally broke, she found herself wondering what the gossipers outside would make of their Russian Iceberg if they saw him now? No sane person would see this Illya Kuryakin, shoulders shaking with emotion and claim he was heartless.

She had left him to weep as long as he needed to, lying face down on the couch, his face buried in a fat cushion, and gradually he had quietened, like a child curled up. He had fallen asleep.

MFU MFU MFU

"What report do you have for me on Mister Kuryakin, doctor Fergus?" Waverly asked, his face full of concern. Fergus looked down at her hands in her lap.

"The man is exhausted, sir. Physically yes, because of not sleeping, but emotionally as well. That brain machine of THRUSH's that he was subjected to gave him a form of selected amnesia, as you already know; but it also succeeded in dragging up some of the darkest events of his life. Things that he both witnessed and experienced as a small child. The sort of things sir, that would traumatize any adult. Considering what he has gone through, and what he is going through, he is remarkably sane, sir."

Waverly nodded.

"I daresay his confidential file, which you have now read, hardly touches the surface?"

"Nothing like, Mister Waverly. I cannot say anything to even give you a clue, but I will say that I am willing to end our sessions, sir. Any more talking and discussing things will do more harm than good at this stage. He needs time now, sir. Time to spend alone with his family and…closest friends…I would say three weeks."

Waverly looked at her.

"Are you hinting that I should give three weeks' leave to Mister Solo as well?"

Unabashed, Fergus nodded.

"Sir, Illya has no family living except his daughter, who is too young to be a crutch for a grown man to lean on. He needs her unconditional love, but he will need Mister Solo to be available as a brother. Illya won't think so, of course. He will think he is fine, I'm sure. If you want Mister Kuryakin to return to work as the man he was, I recommend that you send them both away for three weeks, and the child of course, to give Illya the chance to come to terms with…everything."

"It'll take that long?"

Fergus smiled.

"It'll take a lot longer than that actually, but it'll take about three weeks for Illya to be able to return to his Ice-Man facade. When he can sleep the night through every night, and when he is able to become once again the man that everyone here thinks he is, he will be ready to be certified for field duty once again. With Mister Solo's company, I judge that it will take around three weeks. Without Mister Solo's help, maybe double that."

Waverly raised his eyebrows.

"Very well doctor Fergus. If that is the only way, I will make the arrangements. Where do you suggest we send them?"

MFU MFU MFU

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin sat on deckchairs, watching young Katiya capering about joyfully at the water's edge. She turned and waved and sat down in the breakers to enjoy the feel of the water trickling over her toes. They had been here for two weeks now, and finally Illya was beginning to feel a bit more human. Napoleon had had a hard time of it the first couple of days, coping with Illya's highly changeable moods, as well as watching Katiya when Illya was too keyed up, but gradually the relaxed atmosphere of this place, warm but not blisteringly so, sunny, beautiful private beach, Katiya's unceasing hero-worship, and Napoleon's steady, reassuring presence had done wonders for the Russian. Napoleon had learned a little more about his partner's clearly troubled past, and he was glad Illya had felt able to confide in him and release some of that awful burden he had been carrying. He was beginning to understand his partner a lot more, including why he was always so reticent about talking about his childhood. There were some things best put behind if possible. He turned and was happy to see Illya grinning at the little girl squealing at the feel of the cold water.

"She's having fun down there." The Russian commented. Napoleon nodded.

"I could do with a bit of fun like that myself. Beat you to the water?"

"You're on!"

Laughing, the two men raced each other to the water's edge.